by Grey, Sadie
“But first, the stone must be shaped.” He caressed my cheek. “The rough edges must be carved away and polished. Only then can we reveal the exquisite form that exists below the surface. That’s why I want you as my model.”
“You want to polish away my rough edges?” I asked.
“In a manner of speaking.”
I jerked away from him, knocking his hands from my shoulders. “Do you know how insulting that sounds?” I asked.
“It’s not an insult.”
“Oh? Saying I could be something special if I let you change me? That’s an insult.”
“You’re already special.”
“There is nothing special about me.”
“You’re wrong. You just can’t see it because you’ve built up these walls around you. And that perfect, special part of you remains hidden away.”
“What walls?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Life. Expectations. All the pressure you put on yourself to be perfect all the time. You’re trying to be all these other things instead of just being you.”
I shook my head and backed away from him. “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you. Not yet, but I do know some things.”
“Like what?” I asked and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Okay, fine. You like to play it safe.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, unless you take it too far. Sometimes you have to take risks to get what you want in life. You have to put yourself out there where things aren’t safe. Where things are scary. Where things can hurt you.”
“How do you know I don’t take risks?”
“Alright, you’re a business major, but only because you think it’s the safe option. But if you took safety out of the equation, can you honestly tell me that’s what you want to do with your life?”
“Yes, of course.”
“So you’re telling me that little Angela, at eight years old, she dreamed of being a business woman? Dreamed of wearing stuffy suits and working seventy hours a week?”
“Well, no,” I admitted. “But what the hell do eight year olds know about life?”
“What does anyone know about life? We’re all just faking our way through the day. Doing the things we think we’re supposed to do. Not the things we actually want to do.”
“Well, we all can’t be billionaires, okay? Some of us have to work for a living.”
“And if you were? If you had a billion dollars right now, what would you do with your life?”
I snorted. “I’d lie by the pool with a pitcher of margaritas and order my servants around.”
He shook his head. “Maybe at first, but trust me, that gets old quick. We wither and die when our lives have no purpose. When we don’t have passion. What would you really do?”
I chewed my lip and thought about it. “I don’t know. Start a business probably.”
Dominic growled in frustration. “Again with the business. That’s a bullshit, generic answer. Let me guess, your father pushed you in that direction.”
“Don’t talk about my father.”
“So typical. Daddy was cold and distant, and all you’ve ever wanted was his approval.”
“Stop it,” I said. I could feel the chill in my voice.
But Dominic continued. “He probably worked a lot of late nights. You told yourself he was trying to provide for the family, but he came home stinking of booze and cheap perfume. You tried to ignore it, but deep down, you knew what was going on. You smelled it on his breath and saw it in the pain in your mother’s eyes.”
“Fuck you. My father was a saint. Yeah, he was never around, but that’s because he worked two jobs so we didn’t end up on the street. And those jobs put him in an early grave.”
“Sorry. I went too far. I didn’t know.”
“Exactly. You don’t know. My father was a strong man. A proud man. And I watched him wilt away under the strain of a mortgage and four mouths to feed. Then I watched him break. His heart just gave out one day and he was gone. I was just a little girl standing by helplessly as life beat a great man into the ground. I can’t live through that again. I can’t make my future family live through that, assuming I ever have one. I just can’t.”
“Look,” Dominic said. “I didn’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”
“Too late for that. You think you know everything about the world? You have no idea what I went through. You had your own personal driver growing up. We couldn’t even afford a car.”
“You think I had it easy because I was rich?”
“Yeah, I do. I think that spending your father’s money means you have no idea how the real world works.”
“You think I inherited money and I’ve never had to work a day in my life?”
“Didn’t you?”
He smiled grimly.
Chapter 11
“Growing up, we were more than comfortable. That’s true. My father inherited the Bell Foundation from his father. I guess you’ve never heard of it or me, but the Foundation was worth millions. Life was good.”
“I’m so happy for you. Really.”
“Thanks,” he said, ignoring my sarcasm. “Maybe your father was a saint, but mine wasn’t. He liked to drink almost as much as he liked to gamble. By the time I was twelve, he had pissed it all away. The Bell Foundation was gone, along with all the money.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly.
“Not being rich didn’t matter. Not to me. I loved my parents, despite their faults. As long as I had them, I knew I could get through anything. My father didn’t share that sentiment. He shot himself in the head on my thirteenth birthday.”
My mouth fell open. Dominic paced back and forth with a wry smile on his face.
“It’s funny. I’ve always wondered why he chose that day, specifically. Was it because he couldn’t afford to buy me a gift? That would, of course, make his death partly my fault. Or maybe he had no idea it was even my birthday. We were barely speaking at that point, so it might have been just another Tuesday to him. Or maybe he thought the best gift he could give me was to remove himself from my life. Or maybe he didn’t think of me at all at the end. Maybe it never even occurred to him how he would affect his family. Whatever the case, there wasn’t a lot of celebrating that year. Or since.
“Anyway, my mother couldn’t handle it. Something inside her just broke. The light sort of faded from her eyes. She withdrew into herself and never came back out. She lives in an institution upstate. Never says a word. Never even acknowledges me when I visit. One bullet took both my parents from me.”
“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be. We can’t choose the things that happen. We can only choose how we respond.”
“How did you respond?” I asked.
“Badly. I lost myself in the dark heart of the city. Fell in with some really nasty people. I started dealing. The money was good and I didn’t really have any other options. I did bad things to myself and to others. Life had no value to me. Especially my own.”
Dominic’s eyes looked sad and far away.
“So what happened?” I asked as the silence dragged on.
“One day I woke up and really thought about what I was doing. I asked myself why I was doing all these fucked up dangerous things. I realized that I was trying to kill myself, only I didn’t have the guts to actually do it.
“Well, I’m a lot of things, but I am not a coward. So I pulled out my father’s old gun and held it to my head. I stared at myself like that in the mirror for hours. It felt so viciously poetic to the seventeen year old version of me. I told myself that one way or another, that was the day I would pull the trigger. Either on the pistol or on finally living my life.”
“You chose life,” I said.
“Actually, no. I pulled the trigger but the gun didn’t fire. I pulled it again and again and got nothing but dry clicks. Maybe the bullets had gott
en wet. Maybe the universe had made the choice for me.”
“So then?”
“So then I cleaned up my act. Went legit. I started a little delivery company, just hustling packages around the city in a borrowed van. I had been delivering things around town in my former life, but now instead of drugs I was delivering letters and packages. I recruited a few friends from the old days who wanted to get out of the game, and things expanded from there.
“The company went national. Then global. I restarted the Bell Foundation, found Cavanaugh and rehired him, and now I let other people handle the business. Which is why I finally had the time to go back to college at the ripe old age of twenty-six. And that’s how I met you.”
“Jesus, I had no idea.”
He smiled and shrugged. “Nobody does. I’ve never told anyone. To be honest, I’m not really sure why I told you. I guess I just don’t want you to have the wrong idea about me. Still, I’m not proud of who I was back then.”
“But you overcame so much.”
“I did what I had to do. And now, I do what I want to do.”
“Art.”
“Yes, among other things.”
“But don’t you see?” I asked. “You’re able to do the things you want to do because of the security your company provided for you. That’s what I want. Security.”
“Security is important. That’s true. But I didn’t get that security by playing it safe. If I had played it safe, I’d probably be a bartender right now or maybe a mechanic or maybe dead. Instead, I took a risk and here I am. I had to let go of my fear to get what I wanted.” He extended his hand to me. “Come on. Let me show you something.”
I took his hand and he pulled me along behind him. I almost had to jog to keep up with his long-legged strides. He flung open a door along the back wall of the studio and yanked me through.
The door led to a winding metal staircase. We climbed up a single flight and through another door. Bright light assaulted my eyes as we emerged onto the roof of the building, forcing me to squint. A brisk spring wind whipped through my hair. I pulled the robe tight across my chest with my free hand.
He dragged me to the edge of the roof. A two-foot high brick wall was all that separated us from the five-story drop to the bustling city streets below. Dominic let go of my hand and hopped up onto the narrow wall.
“Come on,” he said, extending his hand to me again. His dark hair danced in the wind.
“What? No, I can’t.” My body trembled with fear at the mere thought of standing up there.
“You can.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“You promised to do what I said.”
“But I’m afraid.”
“I know. Come on.”
I took a deep breath and gripped his hand. He pulled me up onto the ledge with an easy motion. I looked down at the world below, and a wave of vertigo swept over me. The ground seemed to rush up to meet me and I felt myself teetering forward to meet it. Only Dominic’s sure grip on my arm kept me from falling.
“I’m scared.”
He laughed. “Good. That’s the right response.”
“Please. I don’t like this.”
“Stop looking down. Trust me.”
I couldn’t pry my eyes away from the ground. All I could think about was falling down to my death.
“I can’t. What if I fall?”
“There it is. There’s your problem in a nutshell.”
I could barely hear him over the sound of the wind howling in my ears. “What?”
“Look at yourself. You’re so worried about falling that you’re missing out on everything else.”
“What are you talking about?”
He swept his arm in front of him. “Look.”
I dragged my eyes from the concrete below and looked up. My breath caught in my throat. The city unfolded around me. Buildings soared above me, piercing the sky with jutting spires. Cars flowed in a multicolored river through the streets below.
I had seen a similar view from Dominic’s window, but it was like looking at the city through a television screen compared to this. Up there, on the roof, I felt like I was a part of things. With the wind surging around me, I felt as if I were floating in the midst of it all. I could feel the beating heart of the city thrumming within my soul. The chill spike of fear I had felt before was overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all.
Dominic laughed into the wind. “How do you feel?”
“I feel alive.”
“Yes,” he cheered. “Isn’t it amazing? But don’t tell me. Tell the world.” He gestured at the city.
“What?”
“Like this.” He thrust his head back. “I feel alive!” he shouted into the sky. “Now you do it.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said.
He nodded. “Yes, it is. Do it anyway.”
“Fine,” I said. “I feel alive.”
“Louder.”
I threw my head back and shouted, “I am alive.”
He laughed. “Louder.”
“I am alive!”
I screamed it into the spaces of the world. The howling winds carried my voice into the highest reaches of the sky.
“Now tell me,” he said. “What do you want to do with your life?”
“I want to feel this way forever.”
“Good. Chase that feeling. What else?”
“I want to help people. To leave the world a better place than it was.”
“Amazing. Yes.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“That’s alright. You can figure that out. At least you have place to start. Come on.” He stepped down from the ledge and held his hand out to me.
“Wait,” I said. I turned back to the city spread out before me and I held my arms out, embracing the moment. I closed my eyes as the wind coursed over me. I felt like a bird drifting on the breeze, weightless and at peace.
“You look so beautiful right now,” Dominic said.
I felt beautiful at that moment. The world was alive with hope and everything seemed possible. I turned to face him. He looked up at me with laughter and affection shimmering in his eyes.
My robe ripped open and the air gusted against my naked flesh. I screamed in delight, laughing at the madness of it all. I leapt at him and he caught me in his arms. My body pressed against his, and I looked up at him into those raging blue eyes. I wanted him to kiss me.
But he didn’t. He stuck to the agreement.
“Still think you’re not special?” he asked.
“You make me this way. You make me crazy.”
He shook his head. “This is all you. I’m just helping you find it. Don’t you see? Amazing things can happen once you let go of your fear.”
“I don’t know, Dominic. I don’t know if I can change who I am.”
“I’m not trying to change you. I’m trying to help you discover the woman hidden behind the fear and insecurity.”
“Fine, Mr. Sculptor. Polish away my rough edges. I want to see what else you can uncover.”
“Good. Follow me.”
Chapter 12
Dominic led me down from the roof and back to the studio. I was filled with energy and excitement, ready to see what this crazy, beautiful man had in store for me. He took me to a thick velvet curtain hanging along the back wall and pulled it aside, revealing a hidden door.
We stepped into a room shrouded in darkness. A light flared in his hands, and I smelled the acrid scent of sulfur. He took the match and lit a single candle, filling the room with a dim glow. A bed sat in the center of the room. How many beds did this guy have?
It was a big, wooden four-post monstrosity. Lines of carved shapes marched up the wooden posts in winding spirals. My cheeks reddened when I realized that the carvings were the shapes of people having sex in various positions. So many of them were unfamiliar to me, and I suddenly felt utterly inexperienced.
He slipped the robe from my shoulders and instructed me to lay down on my back. A thick canv
as sheet was draped over the mattress. Its texture was rough against my skin, but I did as I was instructed. With expert hands, he bound my wrists and ankles, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed.
Then he set about lighting the rest of the candles in the room. The candles came in every shade of the rainbow. Their light bathed me in gaudy splashes of color so that my skin looked like stained glass.
